


Sticks, Stones, & Scars

by DaisyDogOx (orphan_account)



Category: Don't Starve (Video Game)
Genre: Drama, Gen, I love him, Wilson is a fucking NERD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-04
Updated: 2017-07-04
Packaged: 2018-11-23 12:29:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11402427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/DaisyDogOx
Summary: Wilson had always been an outsider amongst the other children. That didn't change as he grew up, either. Now he's an adult and he's still treated like a freak. Maybe on an island of other freaks he can finally find some solace.





	Sticks, Stones, & Scars

The Higgsbury family sat around the dinner table, Charlotte on the left, Edmund across from her, and young Wilson in the middle. The adults made small talk while he used the handle of his fork to trace patterns in his mashed potatoes.

"Don't play with your food and eat it," his father scolded.

The boy dutifully did as he was told and his mother ruffled his hair. "You can go back to your science after we clean up. Why don't you tell your papa what you did in school today?"

"Jacob hurt me again in gym because I scored higher than him on our quiz."

"Wilson! Don't you have any good news?"

"I got the highest score and the teacher told me I was his favorite."

She simply slumped forward and pushed her plate back. "Finish your beans and help me clean up, please."

He scooped the vegetables into his napkin when no one was watching and 'accidentally' dropped it on the floor for their nearly blind dog. "Mama, can I go up to my room now? My solution should've cooled and I just have to add the other chemicals."

"Wouldn't you rather go ride your bike with the other boys? We spent a lot of money on that, you know."

"No thank you." He grabbed a cookie from the tin and hurried off, his mother sighing as she heard his door lock.

"Where did we go wrong with that boy?"

"Being studious is one thing but he's obsessed," her husband added with a grunt. "Boys his age should be exploring the woods and lighting things on fire. And not in a lab!"

"I suppose we should just let him have his fun. He'll probably grow out of it once he finds a nice girl."

"If the beatings haven't gotten to him I don't know what will," he muttered.

The boy readjusted his goggles and slowly added the chemicals to his solution, grinning as it changed to a fluorescent green and melted into a jelly. "It's perfect!" he shouted. He scooped up a handful of the slime and rushed to the living room, shoving it in his mother's face. "Mama, Mama, look! I made it glow! Now it can work as a nightlight but I can take it anywhere and it'll last until the solution dries out!"

She ruffled his hair again and he squealed, trying to fix it. "That's amazing, Wilson."

"Do you think Papa would like it?"

She hesitated and his grin wavered. "He's probably busy right now..."

"Why don't you go clean up and you can listen to the radio with me?"

He nodded and hurried off, and then she noticed the now glowing trail on the carpet. "Wilson Percival Higgsbury, you get out here and clean this up right now!" she yelled.

He flinched and decided not to listen to the radio with her that night.

* * *

 

He sunk down farther into the uncomfortable plastic chair and nursed a black eye as his parents entered the room, refusing to meet his father's furious gaze. The principal invited them to sit and Wilson leaned farther away.

"I assume you know why you've been called here. Your son attempted to harm another student."

"It seems more like he was the one who got hurt," his mother said stubbornly.

"His science class was creating mild doses of hydrochloric acid and he dropped his sample on another student."

"That's not true!" he cried, speaking up for the first time. "Someone tripped me!"

"Do not speak unless spoken to, Higgsbury."

"But sir, I'm not at fault here!"

" _Higgsbury_."

"Sorry, sir," he mumbled.

"Who's the student who was hurt?" his father asked gruffly.

"A Jacob Peterson."

"And is he the one who hurt Wilson?"

"He and a group of, ah... friends have all testified about the situation and say your son went looking for Mr. Peterson and everything that occurred after was done in self defense."

Wilson chewed on his lip so hard he tasted blood and his mother rested a hand on his shoulder.

"Have you asked any students who weren't directly involved in the incident?"

"We have all the witnesses we need, ma'am. There's no confusion as to what happened."

"And have you asked Wilson for his side of the story?"

"There's no confusion as to what happened," he repeated.

"You haven't, then."

"Ma'am, we don't ask the guilty party what happened in a scenario like this."

She stood up but a hand on her arm pulled her back down. Edmund cleared his throat. "I'll make sure he's punished appropriately."

"It's nice to see at least one member of your family has their head screwed on right. It would behoove you to keep your wife and son in line."

"Of course." He roughly grabbed Wilson by the ear and dragged him out, Charlotte following behind. As soon as they were away from the school he turned to face them, absolutely seething.

"Would you care to explain to me what the hell that was?" he demanded. "You've both stained the Higgsbury name with your ridiculous behavior."

"But he wasn't telling the truth!" Wilson whined. "One of Jacob's guys tripped me so he'd have a reason to beat me up! It wasn't even hydrochloric acid, it was just diluted water!"

"That's it!" he snapped. "We are going home and I'm tearing that lab out of your room."

"No!"

"I will not tolerate any more lip from you. A Higgsbury should be proud and have a commanding presence, and not locked up in his room all day. You're going to learn how to be a man and you're not going to do it with those experiments of yours."

He didn't have anything he might use to change his father's mind and all he could do was fight back tears. He wanted desperately for his mother to speak up and say that Edmund wasn't thinking straight, or even hold his hand like when he was younger, but she simply kept her head down. She was as scared as him.

He vowed then to be stronger, so he wouldn't have to see her in such a state ever again. He wouldn't be a man by his father's standards. He'd be a scientist and solve all kinds of problems to make her proud, and he wouldn't let his father have any of his money. And most of all, he wouldn't let anyone know they got to him.

* * *

 

He stormed inside and kicked the door shut, dropping his bag nearby. A stack of unopened telegrams and letters sat on the table and he walked past them, as usual. The fact that they were written by his mother was more than reason enough to disregard them.

He swallowed thickly and forced himself to keep moving as he approached his lab. Another week with no results and his few remaining sponsors threatening to leave the deal he'd sacrificed so much for.

Hands shaking, he grabbed a vial off the shelf and uncorked it, dumping it into a nearby graduated cylinder. All too late did he realize it wasn't empty and the glass shattered as the substances met. When he could see again there were chemical splatters on his arms and hands. More pressing was the fact that his last non-chipped graduated cylinder was now in fifty pieces.

_Don't cry, Higgsbury. You're stronger than this. You're–_

He felt the first tear slide down his cheek and gave a dejected sigh, collapsing in his chair. He turned off the radio and stared at his wounded hand. Another scar for his ever growing collection.

**"Say pal, looks like you're having some trouble!"**

His head shot up and he glanced at the radio, eyes wide. He was sure he'd shut it off. And why did it seem like the strange voice was addressing him? It was certainly a creepy advertising technique.

**"I have secret knowledge I can share with you."**

He grabbed the machine off the table and scowled at it. It was all a trick. It had to be.

 **"If you think you're ready for it,"** the voice added.

He had nothing to lose. He nodded, assuming whoever it was could see him.

 **"Okay then!"** Lightning flashed and for just a second he thought he saw the shadow of a man with his arms outstretched.

A burning sensation erupted behind his eyes and he very nearly dropped the radio. It was gone just as soon as it had begun and he grinned. Everything was suddenly crystal clear.

He swept all his papers out of the way and grabbed a fresh notebook. He'd have more than enough to write to his family about when all was said and done, not to mention people lining up to sponsor him. His financial troubles would be a thing of the past. Most of all, no more nights spent eating half-spoiled leftovers.

Things would be looking up when he was through with this project.

* * *

 

"You don't seem very inclined to share your past," Willow said out of nowhere, a touch of venom in her voice. "It only seems fair since everyone else has so graciously volunteered that information."

He froze where he was, his rabbit meat catching fire as he held it above the flame. Wendy rushed over to him and pulled it away, blowing away the smoke and giving him a small smile.

"It's not important," he said quietly, trying to mimic the young girl's smile but managing something closer to a grimace. "Who wants to hear about an old man like me?"

"I do, Mr. Wilson!" Webber said, appearing next to the girl.

His grimace became a full scowl and he took a bite to avoid saying anything else. They waited for him nonetheless.

"It's not a story for children," he warned.

"We can handle it, Mr. Wilson. After all, we've survived lots of stuff here!"

He ruffled the boy's hair and sat back, his dinner forgotten. "I wasn't very popular as a kid," he started. "In fact, most people hated me because I did so much better than them in class."

He explained his history with the bullies, his beloved home lab, how his mother did her best to support him, his father's views on being a man, and all about his experiments with his old dog and his attempts to restore her eyesight. At the mention of that Chester waddled over and he threw the creature the rest of the meat. It would be fine. Probably.

He talked for so long the others crowded around to listen. As he neared the end of his story the kids fell asleep in a pile with Chester on top.

He hesitated as he came to explain his deal with Maxwell, face burning with shame at his naiveté. Nobody said anything, having been tricked by the demon themselves.

Wilson nudged Chester awake as he finished and picked up Webber, carrying him towards the young boy's tent. He did the same for Wendy and afterwards found Willow tending to the fire. "It's getting late. Do you want me to take the first watch?"

He offered her a hand and she grabbed it, pulling him to the ground with her. She suddenly grabbed his sleeve and shoved it up past his elbow.

"Hey–!"

She marveled at his scars, eyes wide.

"Maxwell told me how to fix them," he blurted out.

"How'd you get them? They almost look like burns."

"Sometimes... Sometimes experiments go wrong."

She looked at him and he got a good look at her blank eyes. They didn't match the grin she wore. "I'm glad you didn't fix them. They tell a story."

He laughed without humor. "You're the first person I've met who doesn't think they're gruesome."

"They're fantastic."

"Maybe I can do something with them if we ever get out of here," he said. "Get a tattoo that makes them into something. But that requires money."

"I have money," she offered. "Not here, of course, but back home."

"No, I couldn't ask you to spend it on something frivolous for me. I could always bring some gold ore back."

She looked thoughtful. "I want to see your house," she said at last.

"Excuse me?"

"I want to see your lab. Help you destroy Maxwell's door, maybe. We have to get out of here at some point, right?"

"I suppose so... I just– Nobody's asked me that before. They tend to run away when they see the Keep Out signs, before they even meet me."

"I won't run away."

"...Thank you, Willow."

She tossed one more log on the fire and pressed something into his hands. Upon closer examination he realized it was her lucky lighter. "You'll need it if you're taking the first shift."

"But this is–"

"It's not to keep, but it makes it easier to deal with the darkness."

"Of course."

He stared at it long after she'd gone to her tent, noticing for the first time the daisies painted on. Had she painted them? That was a question for tomorrow.

He pulled a sheet of papyrus out of Chester and began to write.

_Mama,_

_I would have answered you sooner but I had no good news and couldn't bring myself to tell you the truth. Unfortunately, my current conditions are worse than before but things should be getting better. I wanted to let you and Papa know that I've made a wide variety of friends here, so things are not completely hopeless. I promise I will write more often in the future. You may even see me in the paper. Keep an eye out for a story about people who went missing._

_Your beloved son,_   
_Wilson Percival Higgsbury_

**Author's Note:**

> I have so much written for Don't Starve it's not even funny so I'm apologizing in advance to all the people that might've followed me for Ace Attorney or even Fire Emblem.
> 
> If you like what you're reading, be sure to leave a review! They fuel me (and other writers) and I'm not getting any feedback from people recently. Makes it harder to post if I think no one's reading. Just saying.


End file.
